


King of Birds

by fucked



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Found Family, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Injury, M/M, Mild Gore, Monsters, Post-Apocalypse, Sirius' personality is highly based on my pet bird, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Wolfstar Big Bang 2019, a bit - Freeform, i really don't know how to tag this, i think, mild body horror, wing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18852118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucked/pseuds/fucked
Summary: In which Sirius is a liberated science experiment living in a relatively chill post-apocalyptic future and Remus is just a nice bloke all round.





	1. The New Cage

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/fc69af98e57ac3d773c465056e77d1e8/tumblr_prm6ruBjDE1x6tstyo1_400.jpg) beautiful piece by @art-of-ame on tumblr for the WolfStar Big Bang x 
> 
> Title taken from King of Birds by R.E.M. I think. I have a terrible memory.
> 
> (I forgot to mention the setting of this fic is pretty much entirely based on the game My Time At Portia. Please play it. You can be gay.)

“You weren’t supposed to bring anything  _ back _ with you.”

“Well, we didn’t really have a choice, Mr Crouch. The building was in collapse; he would have been killed.”

“Better than have it kill  _ us _ . This is highly inappropriate, Potter. We have no bearing on what this creature even is, never mind knowing if the thing is dangerous. You have put us  _ all _ at risk.”

Everything hurts. That’s the first thing Sirius notices when he finally comes to. His eyes are closed but he can hear people talking about him. He thinks they’re talking about him, anyway. Usually, when people use the words  _ creature _ or  _ thing  _ or  _ it _ , they’re talking about Sirius, so it’s reasonable to assume. He doesn’t open his eyes. 

“Well, it doesn’t look all that dangerous now, does it?” a new voice says jovially. This one belongs to a woman, Sirius thinks. Her accent is strong and her tone lacks the tense bite of the men who were conversing before. She’s walking around him in a circle, voice travelling with her in a way that disorientates Sirius in the darkness. “Thanks to your fine planning, Mr Crouch, and Potter’s gallant leadership of his team, the western labs have been destroyed and the madmen running them shipped off to the mainland to stand trial. Now, doesn’t that seem like something to celebrate?” 

One of the men, Crouch, presumably, tries to object but the woman doesn’t seem inclined to give ear to his concerns. Instead, she claps her hands together and, sounding even brighter than before, declares that the rest of the day shall be spent enjoying a jolly good party. 

“Minister,” The other man says, sounding awfully close to Sirius, far too close for his liking, “What should we do with him?”

“Ah, Potter, leave it be. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

 

Sirius is groggy when morning comes. Now that he’s had some time to rest, having been pulled back into sleep soon after the talking people left, his head feels a lot clearer. With his newfound clarity, Sirius can assess the situation and figure out just how fucked he is.

He’s in a cage but it’s not unlike the one he lives in at home so that doesn’t overly worry him. Cages are fine. Cages are familiar. What’s unfamiliar is everything else. 

The room his cage is situated in is well lit by the morning sun peeking in through high rising windows. The decor is nice, bright, cheerful. There are weapons littered about on the floor, on tables, some hanging from walls as decoration. Some of the weapons are recognisable to Sirius; some are not. From where he’s lying behind cold steel bars he spots a few chairs and a table with various magazines spread across it. In the far corner, almost out of his line of vision, there’s a small kitchenette and a set of stairs leading off above his head. 

Sirius’ cage at home has always been sterile and surrounded by blinding white walls and flickering fluorescent light. This cage is much more… Sirius doesn’t know. But it unsettles him all the same. 

Trying to be as quiet as he can, Sirius presses the heels of his bare feet into the wooden floorboards beneath him and slowly, carefully, begins to push himself to the back of the cage, away from the light and into the shadows cast down by the ceiling. 

Right, quick stock check. 

Sirius is hurting, he knows that for sure. His head feels like someone is squeezing it from both sides, pushing their hands together, crushing his fragile skull like soft clay. The aching in his back could be something bad, but he decides that since he was able to shuffle across the floor, the cause has most likely been his uncomfortable sleeping arrangement (at least his old cage had had a bed - or, something  _ resembling _ a bed would be more accurate). 

All in all, he’s okay. A little bruised and tender around the edges, but it’s nothing serious, nothing he can’t come back from. He’ll live - after all, that's the entire _point_ of Sirius. 

The silence that encompasses his cage breaks when the stairs above him start to creak, sending a small spider scuttling away from the wooden ceiling. Sirius wishes he could scuttle away too, but settles instead for curling deep into himself as a petite blonde woman descends and groggily shuffles into his line of vision. 

The woman is small, with equally small features. Her hair is messy and unbrushed, her eyes heavy-lidded. She peers into Sirius’ cage while stifling a big yawn. 

“Oh,” She says, blinking herself awake, “You’re up.”

Sirius doesn’t say anything back, just inwardly curses himself for not playing dead. He stares, eyes locked on the woman’s, unmoving. 

“Well, you just wait there. I’ll go let the boss know you’re awake and then we’ll see what’s to be done about you. I’m Marlene by the way. Bye,” With a wave, Marlene is off again, this time disappearing off to the right side of Sirius’ cage and through two double doors that lead to the outside. 

Fresh air floods into the room and Sirius takes a deep breath of it, closing his eyes. He’s scared, but not as scared as he was at home. Realistically, he should be terrified, and maybe he was when he first woke up, but not as much as is warranted. Something about how the woman talked to him, addressed him, has eased his nerves. He was never spoken to at home, just spoken about. It’s weird, but good. 

Yeah, good. 

But still bad, a bit. 

 

It’s about an hour later (he knows it’s been an hour because he’s spent said hour watching the hands of an old grandfather clock tick there way along - and, yes, it was as mind-numbing as it sounds) when a sea of strange faces come striding in through the double doors that definitely lead outside. He can see grass through them if he strains against the bars - something he immediately stops doing when he notices the new people coming towards him. 

Sirius’ back hits the far wall of his cage when a man with messy hair and glasses steps forward, smiling in a friendly - but not as reassuringly as he’s probably intending - way, “Heya, mate,” He says, “Good to see you back on your feet. You weren’t looking too grand yesterday when we grabbed you, but no worries. You’re safe here with us.”

He’s one of the men from the night before; Sirius remembers his voice because he was the only member of the trio to refer to him as a ‘he’ instead of an ‘it’. Sirius appreciated that.

“That’s enough, Potter. Away from the bars.”

A dishevelled man pushes his way forward through the crowd and displaces this Potter with an indignant grunt. He straightens himself out, brushes himself down and clears his throat, gesturing to a much more tidy woman, though she’s looking a little worse for wear, too, “See here, Minister,” the man says, “The creature is awake, up and standing. It’s clearly fit enough to be let loose. We’ll have Longbottom and McKinnon take it out to the wastelands and set it free to live with the rest of the monsters. They are it’s kind, after all.”

The Minister purses her lips, “Thank you, Crouch, but the decision is up to me and I don’t quite like the idea of kidnapping the poor thing just to cast it out and leave it to fend for itself. It’s all a little inhumane if you ask me. Ah,” She snaps, raising a hand when Mr Crouch moves to interrupt, “And don’t try to quarrel with me on this one, I’m far too hungover for that nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” In his displeasure, Crouch’s voice raises an octave, something that makes the Potter man snicker behind him, “What is nonsense, Minister, is that this- this- this  _ atrocity _ ,” He hisses, pointing a shaking finger at Sirius, “has been brought into the walls of our city! We have children here, people who are unable to defend themselves. We don’t even know if that cell will hold it!”

In the face of Mr Crouch’s righteous fury, the Minister looks thoroughly unimpressed. Perhaps even a little bored. 

“I don’t see why that would matter since I’m going to let it out myself anyway,” The Minister smiles to the sound of gasps from the gathered crowd and the abstract horror of Mr Crouch.

“Oh, damn,” Potter whispers, elbowing a somewhat concerned looking Marlene in the side. Her eyes are ping-ponging rapidly between the Minister and Mr Crouch, but she’s able to spare a moment to give Potter a quick jab to his arm. 

“You can’t be serious,” Mr Crouch protests.

“Oh, I’m very serious.”

“What on earth will you do with it?”

The debate rages on with the Minister digging her heels in the more Mr Crouch spirals. Sirius isn’t surprised by the man’s response; he’s seen men behave like this before, they almost always do when they first see Sirius. 

Mr Crouch is scared of him, and he’s pretty sure he knows why. 

You see, Sirius is a little different to most people. Predominantly, he looks like anyone else and as far as he’s aware, he behaves like them too. It took him years to figure out what made him differ to his doctors, to understand why they got to sleep in the dorms while he slept in a lab. 

The difference, of course, is the set of large white wings protruding from his shoulders. 

He guesses he must be a little intimidating to the non-winged folk. And he doesn’t blame them; he’s intimidated by them too. 

The noise levels in the room go up a notch when it’s suggested Sirius be given a house in town, a job and benefits he can’t even begin to understand. One side believes that Sirius shouldn’t be left unsupervised in case he hurts someone (which is absolutely ridiculous, because, in Sirius’ experience, it’s the non-winged folk that like hurting  _ him _ ) and the other side doesn't think he’d be able to take care of himself if he were on his own (which is less ridiculous, he supposes).

“I could take him.”

Through the bickering crowd, a scraggly looking man in patchwork clothing appears. His hands are clasped together and he withers under Mr Crouch’s uneasy stare. Potter, who gladly makes room for the man, wraps one arm around his shoulder and smiles gently, “You know that’s not necessary, Moony.”

The scraggly man shrugs but leans a little closer into Potter’s warmth, “It’s the least I can do; I didn’t help at all with the attack on the labs. And I might be able to… acclimatise him better, I suppose.”

Potter frowns a little, clearly unhappy with what he’s just heard but doesn’t try to counter. Instead, the Minister claps her hands together and turns to Sirius with a big grin. 

“Did you hear that- uh, didn’t mention your name did you?” Sirius suspects he’s supposed to give it now, but he doesn’t. There are too many people around, too many judgemental eyes. He wants to be brave in the face of these ogling strangers but his voice fails him, so he stays quiet. The Minister seems unaffected by Sirius’ ignorance and pushes on as if he hadn’t just left her hanging, “Well, you’ll be staying with Remus here. He lives just outside the city gates and a nice little cottage. Plenty of grass and open skies around. Good for, err, flying if you fancy it, lad. Stretch those wings, ey?” 

Sirius grimaces. He nods.


	2. Moony and Prongs

The building is cleared of spectators until only Marlene, Potter and Remus remain. 

It’s a task to get him out of his cage, because when suddenly faced with freedom, Sirius realises he doesn’t actually want it. Or, he does want it, but he doesn’t want it like this. He’s unsure of the trio and, when Potter opens the door and holds his hand out to entice Sirius, Sirius all but tries to claw his way through the back wall. The cage erupts in a flurry of feathers as Sirius flaps and glares and he swears to God is he has to bite that hand he will.

Marlene and Potter are halfway through the process of  _ pulling _ Sirius from the cage when Remus gets the bright idea to bring a sandwich into the mix and in the battle of fear vs food, food wins out. 

Sirius is man enough to admit he’s easily bought.  The sandwiches feel good in his empty stomach, and he isn’t about to apologise for that.

“It’s a good thing we’re decent people,” Marlene hums, finally pulling a brush through her hair as the four of them stand idly in the kitchenette, nerves frayed and spirits dampened.

Sirius wonders what his hair looks like; despite his upbringing, he’s always taken a certain interest in his outward appearance. Looking at him now, you wouldn’t be able to puzzle that out about him. He really hopes that’s mud caked on his clothes. 

“If we weren’t,” The woman continues, “We could have easily poisoned you. You’d be well dead by now.”

Potter’s eyes widen, Remus drops his head in his hands with a sigh and Marlene at least has the self-awareness to look a little sheepish at her own remark. Yeah, probably not the best idea to joke about killing the already skittish prisoner you’ve recently kidnapped. Though Sirius can’t find it in him to be worried right now. As he said, the sandwiches taste  _ good _ and he’s pretty sure the woman is joking. Plus, these guys seem to be the ones rallying for Sirius’ fair treatment. Sirius’ fear has not blinded him to common sense. 

 

After the sandwiches and after Marlene has apologised profusely, gaining only a quick, curt nod of acceptance from Sirius, they take off on their journey to ‘Moony’s place’. 

Sirius’ non-reaction to Marlene’s risque joke seems to have given Potter a fresh wave of confidence as he strides his way downhill from the building they had started in, head raised high as he prattles on about family and work and whatever else. For a moment, Sirius toys with the idea of sprinting towards one of the harsher edges of the hill, taking a big running jump and, batting his large, powerful wings, soaring off into the sky. He’s unsure of how far he could realistically get, if he managed to get off the ground at all. The city could have weapons for all he knows - they probably do, actually - and how easy would it be to shoot down such an obvious and unstable target as Sirius. 

No, he’s much safer on the ground. 

For now, at least.

 

“This is Hogsmeade,” Potter says, gesturing around himself in a big circle. They’re in the central plaza, just outside the town hall. There are a few shops littered about and a pub that Potter calls the Three Broomsticks. Potter mentions that they have a position open there if he’s looking for work, but Sirius isn’t entirely sure what the other man means by that. 

“Of course,” Potter continues, “No one expects you to settle in right away. You’ll probably want to rest and recuperate for a few days before becoming a respected member of society. I mean, I’ve lived here my entire life and I still haven’t achieved that. Might be getting close though, these days, since I’m all tied down and everything. Got myself a kid now, too. His name’s Harry. Cute little thing. He’ll think you’re well cool.”

“You’re right whipped these days, James,” Marlene smirks, walking ahead with Remus. She spares a glance over her shoulder to Sirius, “It was bad enough when it was just Lily. Get ready to hear nothing but baby stories from here on out, mate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” James, Sirius guesses his name is - he isn’t fond of mentally calling him Potter; it’s a little too formal, and James doesn’t seem much like a formal guy - rolls his eyes and kicks a small rock in Marlene and Remus’ direction, “Just be glad we don’t live together anymore or you’d be pulling your hair out.”

They walk through the large stone entrance to the city and out onto a dirt road that leads to a small, shabby looking house while James explains that he, Marlene and another woman named Alice used to live in the ‘Aurors Office’ together. The Aurors Office being the building Sirius had been held captive in. James and Alice had moved out, however, when they had married their respective partners and now the pair have sons around the same age, so Marlene is living alone. 

“We’re law enforcement, I guess,” James says, hopping up onto a crumbling old stone wall and walking along it with all the grace of a cat, “Keep the city safe and that. Sometimes we go on missions, too, like the one last night when we rescued you.”

 

Remus’ house doesn’t look like much, but it’s warm and smells good. It’s kind of dark inside, with now midday light shining through the thin, colourful materials that cover the windows, casting a purple and blue hue across the living room. Remus puts on a pot of tea and hands a floral cup to Sirius when he re-enters the room from the kitchen. Once they’re sat down and settled with James and Remus on the double sofa and Sirius across from them in a chair of his own, Marlene makes her exit, mentioning something about having to go hold down the fort. 

They’re close, Sirius thinks, James and Remus. There’s a familiarity between them, one that suggests they’ve known each other for a very long time, or maybe they just mean a great deal to one another. It’s somewhat surprising to him since even he can tell the two aren’t all that alike. At least, they don’t look like it. Even now, while James is leaning forward in his seat, eyes bright with curiosity and excitement, no doubt eager to probe Sirius with all sort of questions, or perhaps just talk about his wife and child some more, Remus is more reserved. He’s softer around the edges, more inward. When he looks at Sirius, it’s with quiet concern. He isn’t very threatening at all. Sirius likes that. 

If this is where he’s going to stay, well, Sirius can think of worse places. 

“Did they give you a name?” Remus asks after placing his empty teacup down on the saucer. James has just gotten done trying to convince the group that his son, despite being very small, is going to be the best football player Hogsmeade has ever seen and if Alice thinks for a second her little Neville has a hope in hell of surpassing the great Harry Potter, she’s sorely mistaken.

With fewer people in the room, less scrutinizing eyes trained on his every movement, watching him like he’s a bomb that’s about to explode, Sirius feels comfortable enough to finally talk. 

“Sirius."

“Sirius?” James seems delighted at gaining even the tiniest piece of information, like this small thing is somehow a victory. Maybe it is, to him. 

Sirius just nods and watches as the softest of smiles tugs up the corners of Remus’ lips. It’s a nice smile. Sirius likes it. 

“This all must be very strange to you, Sirius, and I don’t expect you to grow fond of us in a day. But we’re good people here, most of us anyway, and I think if you give this place a chance you might really fit in. If there’s anything we can do to help you settle, just let me know, okay?”

Sirius nods and only feels a little guilty when Remus’ eyes brighten.

 

Remus’ house doesn’t have a spare bedroom so Sirius is given a spot on the couch instead until Remus can clear some of the junk out of the room opposite his. The man is sat at a rickety looking desk as Sirius lays down to rest, already scribbling down all the things he’ll need to make Sirius ‘feel at home’. Sirius isn’t sure making him feel at home is the best idea, considering the standard his old place set, but that probably isn’t what Remus was getting at with the comment. Besides, Sirius has no plans to stick around, so the gesture is obsolete anyway.

The plan, if there is one, is to take off on his own, much like Mr Crouch rather rudely insisted he do earlier. How he’s going to do that, though, is another issue altogether. 

All his life, Sirius has been dependent on others. First, on nannies that cared for him in the creche before shunting him off to the labs once he was old and strong enough to undergo testing, where he was at the mercy of his ‘doctors’. And now, apparently, he will be relying on this Remus to take care of him. To be fair to him, Remus seems to be doing the best so far - and Sirius only met him this morning. 

And, fuck, if that isn't a little grim.

However, the issue still stands: Sirius has no idea how to survive on his own. He barely knows what the outside world looks like, nevermind how to navigate it. How would he find food? Shelter? Would he even make it out of the city alive? Sure, the people of Hogsmeade have treated him with kindness so far, but the actions of two men and two women over a twenty-four hour period are hardly enough to judge an entire community upon. Something inside Sirius tells him he can trust Remus, probably James, maybe even Marlene, but there are men like Mr Crouch close by who clearly fear Sirius, and scared men do terrible things. 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” Remus asks, putting down his pen, folding up the paper he had been writing on and pocketing it in his suede pants. He pushes away from the table and comes around to sit in the same chair Sirius had been in earlier. Remus looks tired, but not awfully so, though he seems like the sort of man who doesn't get enough sleep in general. 

Sirius nods.

“We could swap if you’re not. I’ll take the couch, you can have my bed?”

“I said I’m fine.”

Now it’s Remus’ turn to nod. The look in his eyes tell Sirius he may have been a little too harsh and he feels a pang of guilt which disappears as quickly as it came. Part of him wants to say sorry - after all, Remus has released him from his second cage, given him a warm, safe place to stay, fed him, let him borrow some clothes and allowed him to shower the dirt and grime from his body; all things Remus didn’t  _ need _ to do - the other part just wants to go to sleep. 

So he closes his eyes and ignores the burning gaze of Remus’ own. 

The laughter that trickles through the air is thick and sweet like honey. It’s quiet, so quiet Sirius almost misses it, but he doesn’t miss it and opens one eye just a crack to watch as Remus turns his back on him before bending down to blow out candles. 

“You know, you really remind me of someone. It’s quite reassuring.”

Sirius doesn’t respond. Just watches. 

“I’ll take you out tomorrow. We’ll show you around, introduce you a bit, get you settled. I’m sure we’ll be able to find you something proper to wear, too. No offence, but even someone as pretty as you look shit in my clothes.”

Blushing furiously, despite the fact that that may not have entirely been a compliment (in fact, he’s pretty sure it wasn’t meant to be), Sirius closes his eyes tighter and pretends to be asleep. He knows fine well it’s not convincing; who in the hell glows red while they’re sleeping?

Still, he almost thinks it’s worked when Remus goes quiet for a moment. Then, ever so gently, he feels the covers he’s been draped in be pulled further up until they’re tucked under Sirius’ chin. Sirius hasn’t been tucked in since he was a child, by his nannies at the creche. It’s odd and strange and somehow reassuring in a nostalgic kind of way. 

It really should worry him just how easily Remus has made him feel safe.


	3. Fitting In

Sirius is going to escape.  

He really, really is. 

 

Hogsmeade is a pretty average city. At least, that’s what Sirius has been told. 

After the end of the world, surviving communities split off into separate groups, each creating their own little havens founded on shared values and a desire to not be eaten by radioactive monsters. It’s been hundreds of years since then, according to the tiny, hunched over woman that runs the grocery store, so life in Hogsmeade is pretty great. They have enough technology to get by - farming equipment, decent plumbing, some families ever have televisions, though Remus doesn’t seem too fond of those - but live frugally enough not to offend those who are still spooked by the concept of microwaves. 

Sirius heard one guy stumbling out of the Hog’s Head claim it was a toaster that brought on the first apocalypse and that cooking your bread over anything other than a grill would certainly doom all of remaining society to the same fate. 

Not everyone in Hogsmeade is as normal as Remus. 

 

On Monday, his first day, Remus drags Sirius around every single shop in the city, forcing him to stand there awkwardly as he’s introduced over and over again. Most of the residents are kind, open, ready to ask Sirius about where he came from and how he’s settling in. Sirius never answers them, letting Remus speak for him. He glosses over the part about the labs which doesn’t make the slightest difference because, as Sirius learns, Hogsmeade is a city of gossips and everyone knows his business already. Any and all questions after the fact are attempts at garnering additional information that can be swapped over beers at one of the two heavily frequented pubs. 

 

Other residents, however, are bastards. 

 

Sirius becomes aware of this on the following Tuesday when he’s ignoring Remus in an ice cream shop. Ignoring him because this is the first time he’s wearing his new clothes - a loose, plain white t-shirt with slits in the back to accommodate his wings, tight black jeans and matching boots that the man at the clothes shop picked out because Sirius 'looks like a kind of kid with style' - and Remus has just offhandedly called him cute. 

The bell above the door rings and three people enter; a man, a woman and a little boy, all looking like they’ve just smelt something bad. Sirius didn’t know children could turn their noses up. Then again, he doesn’t actually know any children so it’s his fault for assuming. 

Remus notices them, too, and promptly puts down his spoon, ice cream abandoned. Propping his elbow up on the table, he rests his chin in his hand and watches with guarded but not unkind eyes as the woman takes the little boy over to the counter to get him a treat. The man, it seems, is headed their way. 

He doesn’t look thrilled. 

“What in heaven's name is that  _ thing _ doing in here?”

It’s only been two days but somehow Sirius had forgotten he was a ‘thing’. 

“Can we help you, Lucius?” asks Remus. He sounds bored, cripplingly so. So far Remus has proved himself to be a soft-spoken but expressive man. There’s something under the surface with him, humour maybe, and definitely a kindness, that’s lacking now. Sirius has never heard him sound like this. 

Lucius’ jaw flexes and he flicks his long blond hair from his eyes indignantly, “When Minister Bagnold said you’d taken in a creature from the wastelands I thought she’d finally lost it. Though I can see why the two of you would want to stick together.”

Remus yawns and picks up the chocolate sauce bottle from the table, squirts a little more on his ice cream. It’s hard for Sirius to comprehend the amount of sweet topping Remus has covered his ice cream in. He actually feels a little queasy.

Not content with being ignored, Lucius turns his attention to Sirius.

“Yes, abnormal little thing, aren’t you?” Is all he gets to say, because Lucius takes a gloved hand and tugs at one of Sirius' feathers. The next thing he knows, Lucius is on the floor, his nose gushing blood and the shopkeeper is asking them to leave. 

Remus takes his ice cream with him.

 

Wednesday is spent with the Potters. Well, some of the Potters. James and his wife, Lily, are both at work - James is out patrolling the borders while Lily is cooped up in the Research Centre. 

Harry Potter is five years old, unbearably cute and causing unbridled havoc for his grandmother. He likes to play with model soldiers and miniature aeroplanes. Sirius lets him fly them over his propped up knees like they’re mountains. He likes Harry very much, and he thinks Harry likes him, too.

Euphemia is a kind woman who turns prickly real quick when Remus mentions the ice cream shop incident. She praises Sirius for ‘knocking that twat on his arse’ and offers to have a word with the shopkeeper to straighten things out. Then she gives Harry a big kiss on his tummy and chases him around the living room until his brown cheeks are tinged pink from laughing.

 

They lay on the grass outside of Remus’ home for most of Thursday, the weather too hot to do much else. Remus tells him about his job -  he’s the small city’s only teacher and the kids have him run ragged, but he loves the job all the same - and his hobbies, tells him more about James. James is apparently a bit of a dick, but he’s a good lad deep down and he’s the best friend Remus has ever had. He dotes on Lily and Harry, and Sirius can see why. They’re a nice little family, Sirius thinks, even if his contact with Lily was only scarce. She didn’t seem to mind a ‘monster’ playing with her son, so there’s got to be a good sign.

At some point, Sirius nods off with his head nestled against Remus’. He wakes up with the sun going down and Remus' arm thrown over his chest. The man looks so peaceful in sleep, his eyelashes casting soft shadows over his scarred cheeks. Sirius wants to ask what happened, but Remus took the hint a while ago that Sirius doesn’t want to discuss his own shit, so he shouldn’t pry into anyone else's. Despite the scars, Remus is beautiful - and Sirius feels it’s okay for him to admit that, to himself, at least. 

He’s so fascinated by Remus’ face that he doesn’t realise he’s been trailing his fingers across his forehead, over his eyebrows, down his nose, his cheeks, his lips - until Remus’ eyes are opening and then they’re staring at each other. 

For the first time since leaving the Aurors Office, Sirius feels a powerful urge to bat his wings and fly away. 

He pulls his hand back, but Remus catches his wrist, “It’s okay.”

 

He finds himself in the Three Broomsticks on Friday night, drinking something called a ‘butterbeer’ and trying to ignore the mild sunburn he got the day prior. He’s sat at the bar with Remus by his side. They share smiles and at one point Sirius even laughs. James joins not long later with Marlene and Alice in tow. All three of them are caked in mud and grinning from ear to ear. James claps him on the back, tells him it’s good to see him and introduces him to Alice properly, who goes in for a hug. Sirius doesn’t pull away and stays close as they move to find a bigger table.

Most people in the quaint pub either greet Sirius cheerfully or ignore him completely. Nobody, not even Lucius and his friends, try to bother him when they pass by. 

“Ah, might have something to do with my mum. She’s been talking you up around town, and, well, it’s not like anyone’s going to want to piss her off by upsetting you,” James laughs and downs his beer before addressing Remus, “When’s the school open up again?”

“Monday,” Remus answers. He’s a little tipsy, though nowhere near as cut as the rest of the group, “Nine sharp.”

“Sucks. Harry loves the holidays.”

“What does that say about my teaching?”

James laughs again, orders a refill, “Nothing. Don’t think he doesn’t ask for you every morning. Loves his uncle Moony, does our Harry. Here, you wouldn’t mind babysitting him tomorrow, would you? I want to take Lily out on a picnic on my day off.”

Remus rolls his eyes and finishes his beer, but agrees. When he leans back from the table he ends up inadvertently pressed against Sirius’ side. Neither one of them makes to move. It’s no problem. Remus is warm and his weight is comforting. And maybe, just maybe, Sirius’ arm crawls to rest around Remus’ waist. 

“Whatcha gonna do when Remus’ back at work, Sirius? Just hang about?” Alice asks. 

He’s getting better at talking to Remus, so he’s less hesitant to give it a go in front of Remus’ friends. 

“I don’t know,” He says, and realises his accent is very different to the rest of the group. Something he hadn’t noticed when he was talking to Remus alone. He enunciates more, he thinks. He looks at Remus for guidance, who reaches down and gives his hand a little squeeze. It’s the hand attached to the arm that’s wrapped around Remus’ waist and Sirius blushes scarlet. 

If the rest of the group notice, they don’t say anything. Marlene picks some dirt out from under her nails, then voices her suggestion, “You could come to work with us. Aurors can always do with an extra pair of hands.”

Sirius thinks of the Aurors Office, thinks of the bright room full of weapons and the cage under the stairs. Now that he knows what it’s like to sleep in a real home, albeit on the couch, and spend his days roaming around outside, he never ever wants to go back. 

Marlene seems to catch on and is quick to amend, “You’d be outside. We’re working in the wastelands at the minute. Got a hole in the ground out there and there’s been an influx of monsters climbing up from the old sewers. You wouldn’t have to do much. Just help us carry the tools and extra materials to patch the hole.”

Sirius thinks about it for a moment. There’s a concerned expression on Remus’ face, one that Sirius really wishes wasn’t there. But he’s been here almost a week and if Remus is gone, what else is there for Sirius to do. 

“Okay,” He says, “But I'm not really built for fighting. I’m not sure how I’d fend against a monster.”

James grins wickedly and something about the mischief etched into his expression makes Sirius want to grin back, “I don’t know about that, mate. I heard you did a pretty good job of putting Malfoy down all on your own.”

 

Sirius and Remus take Harry for the whole of Saturday night, giving his parents some much needed alone time. He’s wearing cotton pyjamas with little footballs on them and when he gets out of the tub he smells like strawberries. The three of them sit on Remus’ bed, where Harry will be sleeping alongside his uncle tonight, while Remus reads them a story. At one point, Harry reaches out to play with Sirius’ wings but he abruptly edges away, ruffling his feathers uncomfortably. Harry looks sad at that and cuddles closer to Remus, who just smiles gently to Sirius over the boy’s head. 

When Harry leaves in the morning, he gives Sirius a big hug but is careful to avoid the wings. 

 

“Hey, thanks again for watching the sprog. I love him to death but sometimes you just need five minutes with your wife, you know?”

“Only five minutes, was it?”

“Shut up, Alice!” James squawks and runs down the hill after his friend, leaving Sirius and Marlene in the dirt.

It’s only been about half an hour since Remus dropped him off outside the Auror's Office - because Sirius is still absolutely  not going back in there - before saying a quick goodbye and dashing away to the school building. Still, it feels odd being away from him and Sirius finds himself feeling vulnerable without his companion. 

“She’ll kick his arse if he catches up with her,” Marlene smiles like she doesn’t see a thing wrong with that scenario. He isn’t going to dispute that, because she’s got a huge fucking sword strapped to her back and Sirius isn’t an idiot. Not that he thinks she’d actually use it on him; the citizens of Hogsmeade have had all week to kill him and he’s still here. 

Halfway down the hill, they come to a pair of large wooden gates embedded into a stone wall. There are wooden spikes atop the gate, barbed wire and even a small blinking object that Sirius thinks is a siren. There’s a big padlock and chain holding the gates closed and Sirius watches as James takes out a key and unlocks it, pushing the doors open with a grunt. 

The wastelands don’t look all that different from the grassy, hilly area they’ve just come from, except for the ruins of old buildings scattered here and there. Mostly, it looks like nature has reclaimed whatever this place used to be before the apocalypse. He wonders as they start across the grass, what the fern covered ruins once were. He wonders who lived or worked here. He wonders how they died. 

Perhaps it was the monsters. 

Strange birds fly overhead that look nothing like the pigeons that spend their afternoons pecking at seed in the plaza. These ones are almost the size of Sirius, large and round like a balloon and each one a vibrant shade of pink or red. They look rather docile, in Sirius’ opinion, and he thinks that maybe if he got up there, he might be able to out-fly them.

Marlene catches him staring and quickly wraps her long fingers around his forearm. She tugs him back a little and he realises belatedly that he had been stepping towards the strange birds.

“Don’t get to close. They might not look like much, but those beaks are sharp and they swarm when they’re pissed.”

Sirius nods and lowers his head. He focuses on carrying the tools instead, which feel like they’re growing heavier with each step. 

After a soggy, laborious walk through some wet and sticky mud that has definitely ruined Sirius’ new boots (he’s actually quite upset about that), they finally make it to the hole. 

“Okay, team,” James says, his voice heavy with the confidence of a natural born leader, “Marlene and I will hold off the monsters while Alice focuses on patching up that hole. Reuse whatever you can from the original breach, we don’t want to waste anything. Sirius, you stay close to Alice and have the tools on hand.”

With that, James and Marlene go running off towards the group of… honestly, Sirius doesn’t know what they are. He looks practically normal compared to those guys. Some of them seem humanoid and remind him a little of the zombie books one of his old doctor’s used to read. Another looks like a big dog with three heads and occasionally the animal eats one of the other monsters if they wander too close. For a moment, Sirius just stands, watching as Marlene unsheaths her sword and starts swinging. James seems to favour hand to hand combat, but it’s still impressive all the same. It isn’t until Alice shouts at him to help her out does he remember he’s actually supposed to be doing something. 

To be fair, he’s not doing much, just handing the tools to Alice when she asks for them. Right now she’s hammering away at a metal sheet, trying to patch a crack between the old ruin and the break in the ground. 

Idle, Sirius’ eyes wander and he finds himself looking up at the sky. It’s so bright, so blue, and he smiles as he notices the strange birds from before have flown over. They’re so big and clumsy looking, but so agile as they twirl through the air in merry little loops, playing with each other. 

It’s there, in the wastelands, with his eyes locked on to the birds, does the echo of Mr Crouch’s voice come back.

‘They are it’s kind, after all.’

 

And Sirius is going to escape. 

He really, really is.


	4. What Goes Up, Must Come Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for some gore and body horror and fight scenes and that sort of stuff. 
> 
> @art-of-ame's beautiful art is in this chapter, too!

Flying, it turns out, it a lot harder than it looks.

In the labs, his flight training was always carried out through simulation because his doctors didn’t trust him not to fly away - which… okay, understandable. And of the scarce few times he did attempt to fly inside, he ended up getting intimidated by the concept of ceiling which resulted in, on every single occasion, crashing and burning.

The sky doesn’t have a ceiling, so at least that’s working in his favour.

Sirius pumps his wings, straining against gravities valiant attempts to send him plummeting back down to earth. Up and down, up and down, with each exhausting drag and pull, Sirius soars higher until he can barely hear the desperate cries from the group below at all. He has no idea how high up he actually is and wouldn’t know where to begin trying to gage it, but he’s higher than the birds from before, who are looking at him like _he’s_ the weird one.

Maybe he is. Or maybe none of them are weird at all.

It’s scary to look all the way down, but Sirius swallows that fear. This is who he is and he’s not going to be ashamed of that anymore. He’s not going to be quiet, he’s not going to be nervous or skittish. He’s going to be Sirius, and Sirius looks pretty fucking cool right now.

He looks down and spots James easily. He’s trying to climb the old ruined building, waving his arms and yelling something Sirius can’t make out. Sirius waves back, because he feels compelled to, until he realises that James’ arm movements are less of a ‘hey, sick wings, mate! Wish I had a pair’ and more of a ‘move the fuck out of the way, you utter idiot’.

Sirius has just about half a second to play out that thought process before something very large and very strong all but knocks him out of the sky.

He drops a good ten feet, winded and wheezing before he remembers to bat his wings. He manages to gain a little of the height back before he’s slammed into again and this time his vision cuts out sending into a brief but terrifying darkness. Again and again, another after another Sirius is pelted with bodies and peaked with beaks strong enough to break bone.

Running on adrenaline, he dips lower, adjusts his feathers and with all the speed he can muster, zooms out of the way.

Thankfully, he was right earlier: he can out-fly them.

He leaves the birds behind and mentally checks himself over. He hurts and he’s panicking, his chest heaving. A chunk is missing from his right arm and blood has splattered across his wings from the force of the wind. Or, that's what he thinks the blood is from until his right wing starts to die on him as he glides over some dense forest far away from the abandoned Aurors, failing to catch the air and folding back into place at his side on instinct.

Sirius is now flying with one wing, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out how that ends.

 

If Sirius thought the branches would do anything to break his fall, he was sorely mistaken.

He hits the ground so hard he's knocked unconscious and doesn’t wake up until a fresh new wave of pain explodes through his left shoulder.

Sirius screams, lurching upright and watches in horror as a four-legged animal pounces away, waving it’s many tails menacingly. The creature is all black, furry, has too many eyes to count and even more teeth, jutting out in every direction. And trapped between those teeth, hanging long, limp and broken, is Sirius’ wing left.

He’s in shock, he thinks, because at first he just sits there, watching as the animal goes back to eating. It claws at his feathers and gnaws, much like a dog would gnaw on a bone while Sirius just watches, numb.

And then he isn’t numb anymore.

“Hey,” he yells, startling the cat-like creature, “Fuck off!”

He wasn’t expecting that to actually work so when the animal does indeed ‘fuck off’ he’s pleasantly surprised.

Now alone, he takes a moment to gauge his surroundings. He’s in the forest he was flying over, very deep in it if he’s correct. Too deep to yell for help, but what does that matter? He’s just abandoned James and the others, it’s not like they’re actually going to be looking for him after that. He doesn't blame them.

God, he’s such an idiot.

Picking up what’s left of his wing, he cradles it in his arms and begins to walk in the opposite direction the animal escaped in. The ground is unstable and he trips a few times as he drags his feet. He’s crying, which sucks because that’s not really something Sirius does, but also, he’s ruined everything so he figures he’s allowed to this one time.

There’s a lot of time to think, out here in the forest. He thinks about the warm cottage just outside the city gates with its low hanging fabrics and comfortable couch. He thinks about James and Marlene and Alice, sitting around a table in the Three Broomsticks, welcoming him into their little group like he’s been there all along. He thinks about Harry, his sweet smiles and kind eyes, toy aeroplanes and soldiers and how he had wanted to touch Sirius’ wings. Just to touch them, and Sirius couldn’t even give him that.

Sirius has taken so much from the people of Hogsmeade and while, yes, some of them _are_ bastards, some of them are welcoming, and comforting, too. Some of them have given them a place to stay, have clothed and fed him; have let him exist without being asked for anything in return. Some of them have squeezed his hand and told him 'it's okay'.

Sirius thinks of Remus and his heart hurts almost as much as the spot where his wing used to be.

Because people have been bad to Sirius, but not all people _are_ bad. And now, lost in the forest, aching and broken, Sirius misses _his_ people.

 

When the ground beneath him starts to shake and branches snap in menacing cracks behind him, Sirius knows to run.

He curses himself as he sprints through the trees, ducking under fallen logs and desperately trying to stay upright. He loses his ruined boots one after the other and grits his teeth through the pain of running barefoot.

He isn’t built to fight, he isn’t build to run; Sirius is built to fly and with his severed wing clutched to his chest like something precious, he knows he’s fucked.

The cat-like creatures have caught up with him and these ones are so much bigger than the first. That little snitch ran back to grass him up, and now Sirius is going to die all because he let the words of one man get to him.

Well, fuck that.

Sirius might not have been made to fight, but he was made to survive and he’ll do whatever it takes to get out of here and throw Crouch’s words back in his great ugly face.

When he goes down, he goes down hard.

He’s tackled from the side at first and his light bones offer no resistance against the power of the cat. They both go crashing into the undergrowth and two sets of powerful claws pull away what’s left of Sirius’ clothes. He’s more concerned about his flesh, however, and screams in agony as he’s torn open.

Reaching to the side in utter panic, he wraps his fist around a rock and slams it into the head of the beast, bashing over and over until it backs off, only to be replaced by another. He only just manages to scramble to his feet before a large jaw embeds itself into the ground where Sirius once lay.

Okay, okay, okay, _think_.

He looks around, chest heaving, eyes flitting from tree to bastard tree.

Oh.

The trees.

He can’t fly, but...

Suddenly, the forest is filled by a blood-curdling howl. It’s so loud it makes Sirius double over and cringe, but not for long. The cats are distracted and this is his chance.

The howling is getting closer but that doesn’t matter to Sirius because in seconds he’s at the base of a tree and using every drop of strength his frail body has in it to climb. He’s exhausted and he’s in agony, but he’s not dying today.

Higher, higher, higher… he only stops climbing when the cries from down below turn from ones of anger to ones of fear. It takes a lot of willpower for Sirius to stop climbing. Everything in his is screaming to get higher, to get to the skies, but another part of him, a more determined part of him, tells himself to look down.

He looks down.

And what he sees is carnage.

Eight dead monsters torn to shreds and in the centre, a wolf.

Except it’s not a wolf. Much like everything else in the wastelands, it’s too big to compare. And then it’s not big anymore. Shrinking and shrinking until what’s left is-.

 

Sirius is back on the ground. He stumbles forward. One step, two. He collapses to his knees by his severed wing, bloody, bruised, but heart still beating. He looks up at Remus Lupin through wet and wonder-filled eyes.

Remus is his kind.

And Sirius survives.


	5. His Own Kind

Sirius is already healed by the time they make it to the tiny hospital, conveniently located right next to the entrance to the wastelands. The healer gives Remus and Sirius, who are both completely naked from head to toe, a withering stare before suggesting they go home to rest and recuperate since there’s nothing she can do for them anyway. She does, quite generously, offer them a robe each to cover their dangly bits.

Silver linings.

They walk back down the hill and through town in silence. Sirius doesn’t even have it in him to shoot Lucius a glare when he steps out of the town hall and swiftly covers his wife’s eyes as if she hasn’t seen two sombre looking, bloodsoaked, naked human hybrids before. 

Weirdo.

They get back to the cottage just before nightfall and everything is how they’d left it this morning. The radio is still playing, Remus’ half-drunk tea - now cold - sits abandoned on the coffee table, a book Sirius was reading lays open over the arm of the chair. All tokens from their rushed exit from home when they’d realised Remus was going to be late for his first day back at work. 

They step into the living room and Remus runs his hands down his face. He looks exhausted. “We should talk,” he says, and while Sirius knows he’s right, he’d really rather do anything else. 

“Do we have to?” He asks.

“Yes. Yes, we do.”

 

They lay on Remus’ bed, dressed in matching pyjamas which was definitely an accident but not an unpleasant one. Resting on their sides, faces barely a breath apart, they tell each other everything. 

“You’re from the labs, too?” It shouldn’t be a question, Sirius already knows the answer.

“Yes.”

“Is that why the Aurors came to get me? You told them where I was?”

“Yes, and no.”

Sirius waits patiently until Remus feels comfortable to elaborate further. 

“I didn’t know for sure there were others. I was kept in the labs south of you. I was the only… experiment in my facility, I guess. But I overheard one of my 'keepers' mention her husband worked at another location and the way she described it, well, it reminded me a lot of my own situation. I mostly forgot about it after that but a few months ago the conversation came back to me and I couldn’t let it go, couldn’t bear the thought that there was someone else like me couped up in that hell hole, being tortured to satiate the fascinations of a few sick people. I went to James and he told his boss and, well, you know the rest.”

The room is all but silent except for their breathing. Nightfall has brought the cold with it and Sirius edges a little closer, seeking warmth from the only person truly like him in the world. 

“But why?” He asks, unable to quell his curiosity. He can tell Remus doesn’t want to talk about it, but he said it himself, they  _ have _ to talk, “Why did they do that to us? Why were we made?”

Remus shrugs, pushes a strand of long, dark hair out of Sirius’ eyes, “Different reasons. I was meant to be a weapon, I think. In case another war broke out. Human enough to take orders, animal enough to hunt and kill. It’s all pretty grim. You’re more of a survivalist. I think they were designing a new race of humans when they made you. There’s not much you can’t get away from with a pair of wings-” Remus’ words die in his throat and he stares into Sirius’ eyes with a mixture of guilt and sympathy, “I’m so sorry, Sirius,” he whispers, oh so gently.

It’s a nice sentiment but totally unnecessary. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he says, as if waving his hand will clear Remus’ worried expression, “it’ll grow back.”

“It’ll what now?”

Sirius shrugs, or attempts it. Shrugging isn’t easy when you’re lying down. 

“No, yeah, it’s fine,” he says, “I can’t count how many times my doctors cut bits off to check that they’d regenerate again. Trust me, it’s tried and tested. It’ll be a stub for a little while and I look weird as fuck when my feathers are growing in - but, you’d see that anyway when I get my moult so… what?”

He stops because Remus is looking at him like he’s just grown a second head. 

“Sirius, that’s fucked up.”

Oh. 

“Can I ask you a question now?” Remus asks, so quiet that if Sirius wasn’t just inches from his mouth, he wouldn’t have heard. 

He’s pretty sure he knows what Remus is going to ask, but he nods anyway. Honestly, he’d give anything to Remus right now.

The man wets his lips, looks down to Sirius’ own, then back up, “Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t think I belonged,” He says, honestly, “I was watching the birds in the wastelands and I just thought, ‘I want that’. I want a group of people that I’m similar to, that I fit in with. They looked so happy and I wanted to be happy… but I was wrong. I think…”

Sirius trails off and tries to look away but Remus catches his chin between gentle fingers. It reminds him of the evening spent on the grass. 

‘ _It’s okay_.’

“I think that maybe I can be happy here. You’re my people, Remus, and not just because of where we’re from or what we are. James and Marlene and Alice and Harry; I’m not like them at all, at least not physically. But, I feel like I am. And I feel like I’m supposed to be here.”

The pad of Remus’ thumb runs over Sirius’ cheek and he smiles, so small but so bright.

“I think you’re right.”

 

Sirius is walking down main street, a bouquet of flowers in hand and a spring in his step. The weather’s starting to get cooler now that summer’s coming to an end and Sirius pulls his new leather jacket tighter over his arms. It’s second hand, technically, since he rescued it from the back of James’ mother’s closet, but Sirius likes it. He likes it so much he went at it last night with a box cutter and sliced two long holes in the back for his wings. Because he has two of them again now and they’re looking very dashing if he does say so himself. 

That’s one of the main reasons Sirius is so happy these days; his feathers have finally finished growing back in and he can finally show his face in town again without James chanting ‘we want the stump’ until he reveals it to a raucous crowd. 

Well, the stump is no more and Sirius is off to see his man. 

He climbs the stone steps to the school building two at a time and lets himself in with familiarity. Remus isn’t in his office which means he’s in the only classroom in the building, likely trying to wrangle a bunch of unruly kids into reciting their multiplication tables. 

Poking his head in, Sirius gives the room a once over before deciding it’s safe to enter, and knocks three times on the doorframe.

“Special delivery for Professor Lupin!”

“Sirius!” The classroom erupts in a burst of tiny voices and Sirius suddenly finds himself trying to fight against the current of school children that’s threatening to pull him under. 

“Your hair is really cool!”

“Are those flowers for Mr Lupin?”

“Our mum says you’re an angel!”

“No, Fred, she says he  _ looks _ like an angel!”

“My mum’s gone off ‘im. Said she saw him when his feathers were comin’ in and he looked like an angry hedgehog.”

All of the kids are a bit overly touchy when they see someone as interesting as Sirius so he's used to being prodded and poked by now, but Harry gets right in there, face buried in Sirius’ soft feathers, only coming up for air to eagerly agree with his friends, “Yeah!” he says, “My dad said he gets right moody when he’s moulting. Gets real sensitive if you mention it.”

“I do not get sensitive about my moulting and I’ll have you know that your dad-!”

“Sirius,” Remus’ voice is calming in the sea of children and everyone but Harry returns to their seat because Sirius is currently dangling Harry by his feet, “Please put the child down.”

Sirius does so, pouting, but smiles when Harry gives his wings one last hug before he bounds off back to his friends. 

The flowers are a little squished now but he reckons they’ll still do the job. The pair step out of the classroom, close the door behind them, and Sirius presents the bouquet with his best ‘aren’t I handsome?’ grin.

“What are these for?” Remus asks, bringing them up to his nose to sniff. 

He’s so beautiful and if it’s not corny to say, for a moment Sirius is lost in his eyes. For real, he has to take a moment to gather himself. “Well,” he says, as confidently as one can when they’re placing their heart on their sleeve, “I was wondering if maybe we could be boyfriends.”

Remus laughs and shakes his head, “We live together, have been on countless dates together, we do everything couples do together. We’ve been in a relationship for months. At this point, I’d be justified in expecting a ‘be my husband’ instead of a ‘be my boyfriend’.”

Sirius shrugs and runs his fingers through his glossy hair in a way he’s learned Remus is really,  _ really _ into, “I could ask that, too, if you want.”

“You’re a disaster,” Remus scolds and bats his boyfriend on the chest before pulling him in for a kiss. 

It’s nothing too fancy - there are kids in the other room, remember - just a normal kiss like ones they’ve shared a thousand times. Sirius wraps his arms around Remus and rests his chin on his shoulder, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment. He hums happily as Remus' capable fingers find their way to his wings and stroke through his soft feathers ever so tenderly. 

At this moment, Sirius is so profoundly happy and he takes joy in remembering, not for the first time, that here, out in the corridor beside Remus’ classroom, in a tiny school building in a tiny city, Sirius has found his home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
